Oglethorpe House
by LostandAlone22
Summary: Sam and Dean travel to Savannah, Georgia to investigate a haunting in a dorm building, but will they themselves fall prey?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is not mine. It belongs to the nice people over at the WB. I am not making any money off of it. Some of the places in this story are real places, such as the college, the dorm, and the general haunting. The storyline is mine, though (the legend didn't really supply info on that part of the haunting).

This story isn't a sequal to "Turnabout"per se, but I continue on with the story. You don't have to have read "Turnabout" to get most of the story, but there will be mentions about things that happened in "Turnabout." On with the show:

Here is my first chapter. I hope that you enjoy it.

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Looking over at the sleeping form of his brother, Dean hesitated. Sammy needed the rest; he was still recovering, still weakened. Although he had given Sam a choice on what they would do next, he really wanted to make him stay here for the week their father had mentioned. He went over to the table near the window, bringing the laptop with him. Using the light from a crack in the curtains with the vain hope of letting his baby brother sleep just a little while longer, Dean looked through countless obits, trying to find their next job. He wished that their dad would send a text message, maybe call them, and tell them what to do next...at least this time. Most of the weight of the hunt would fall on Dean's shoulders, and he wished that finding the job would at least be made easier. 

He paused in his search, looking intently at Sam. While he had gotten much better, he was still weak. Lying in bed for over three months while something struggled to take his life had made him less than able to fight as hard as they may need him to if he was going to be working on a hunt. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he wished that Sam would have asked to settle down somewhere. He could be safe if they didn't go directly back to the hunt, if they allowed Sam to build back up his strength. Sure, he was walking, alone, but that didn't mean that the situation couldn't change at any time. The doctors had given him medications that would last six months, assuming that he would be vulnerable during that time, and he was wanting to overextend himself on the first full day out.

As he turned back to the job search, this time in the state of Georgia, Sam shifted his weight. Dean figured that his brother would be waking up soon, despite his best efforts to keep him asleep. Nervously, he put the tip of the pen he had been using to write down possibilities in his mouth and looked at the screen intently. There was a girl, about nineteen years old who had killed herself. He skimmed over it, simply because of her age and something didn't add up. She was an honor student at the Savannah College of Art and Design. Her life was going well; with a steady boyfriend and a promising career future in film. He looked for a news article that may have been about the suicide.

"**College Student Jumps From Sixth Floor Dormitory**"- the article sprang out at him in bold letters. Okay, so this city liked to be blunt. It had probably caught people's eye. He read the article, noticing the little things. She had been active in the Christian Student Fellowship and Savannah Filmmakers Collective, and she was pregnant. She didn't seem to ever be depressed, but that could just be people not wanting to remember her that way. They all said she was sweet and she wouldn't have done that to her family or friends. It even mentioned the room number that it occurred outside of.

He changed the focus of the search to the dormitory. A whole list of news stories came up, all about young college students jumping to their deaths. It seemed to be focused during two time periods with nothing in the middle. The first death that had occurred there was in 1981, after her boyfriend had left her while she was pregnant with his baby. After that, over a dozen deaths had occurred, each in the same area on the same floor. The suicides had stopped until just recently. Seven kids had killed themselves over the last semester, again all in the same area on the same floor. He dug deeper by going to the school's newspaper and looking for anything mundane that had changed since the last semester. There was a mention that the plexiglass that had covered most of the sixth floor had been taken out because it was deemed an eyesore. In it's place was a beautiful glass window that could easily be opened. He was now even more interested. This could have happened because of the plexiglass, but he knew they would need to do more than just put a plexiglass window in. They would need to salt and burn the bones, because anyone could put back in a glass window again. He just hoped that they got there in time to stop another person from taking their lives.

He looked down again and almost had a heart attack because Sam was looking at him, quiet as a mouse. His eyes spoke of fatigue, but he pushed himself into the sitting position. "Find anything yet, Dean?" He asked, his voice a little scratchy. Dean looked at him and hoped for a moment that it was lack of water that made his voice scratch.

"Yeah, it's in Georgia. Get your ass up and let's go." He told his baby brother in his usual tone, allowing Sammy to know that he did think he was better. He watched as Sam slowly got up, and walked to the bathroom.

Collecting his clothes, he got himself ready, dressing quickly seeing as he'd showered the night before. He put everything in the Impala, including Sam's bag, and called once more for his brother. They had a seventeen hour drive ahead of them, if they didn't stop.

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, and looked around for his bag. "Dean?"

"It's in the car. Let's go!" He instructed his little brother. It was already ten o'clock and they still needed to stop somewhere for breakfast so that Sammy could take his pills. Then, he would stop for lunch and dinner to make sure Sammy ate. At this rate, they wouldn't get there until tomorrow afternoon. He sighed and chased Sammy out, remembering to leave the key on the table.

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Thank you for reading the first chapter. Please feel free to leave any kind of review, whether it be a compliment, constructive criticism, or a question. I will try my best to answer you.

Happy Hunting!


	2. The Dream

Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it. Thanks a lot for all the reviews I have been getting. I was surprised at the reception. I really didn't expect for someone to actually know of the place that I'm writing, and to have been there. So, in honor, "Hey Celtic-Spaniard."

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Dean watched Sam as he slept, still wanting to make sure he was okay. They had driven all day, and were only stopped now because he had insisted. It was scary, watching Sam try to keep up with him and still be tired. Sam had been nodding off, trying to keep up a conversation and mumbling when he had finally stopped for the evening. They had made a lot of leeway toward getting there, but Dean knew for Sammy's sake, they needed to stop. Sam had only objected for a few minutes, before Dean told him that he was tired, and Sammy gave in, concerned for his brother. Dean knew it was wrong to take advantage of a trait that had been instilled in both of them like that, but it needed to be done.

It had been worth it, too. The second they went into the room, Sam had plopped down on the nearest bed and fallen asleep with his shoes and clothes still on. Dean had picked up his brother and scooted him over to the other bed, taking his usual position by the door so that he could protect Sam if something came into their room. Dean had pulled off his shoes, checked the temperature in the room, and then put another blanket over Sam. The quilt that he had used to cover up with when he was sick was still out in the backseat of the Impala. Dean didn't really want to see it again. It brought back too many bad memories now, was associated with almost losing Sam instead of wrapping him up in the car so he and his dad could go hunt while Sam slept.

Now, as he watched him sleep, he started noticing little things that set off warning bells that something was going to happen. Sam was twitching and seemed to be trying to get away from something. He gently went over to sit closer and be there in case he was needed.

Sam could feel the cold pit in his stomach. There were people his age dying, killing themselves. He saw a woman standing behind them and whispering things in their ears to make them do it. She was so pretty and he felt drawn to her. She set her eye on him and started drawing him to her. He couldn't escape, could hear her voice and then he felt her breath on his cheek. The air was becoming heavier and he fought to get away. He had the sensation of being on a table and it was moving. Dean was near but he was slipping away from him, and Sam knew he couldn't stay there. Was that Dean crying?

Sam awoke with a scream and flailing his arms, sending Dean flying back off of the bed. Dean watched as Sam looked around frantically trying to focus on where he was. His breath was coming in sharp, rapid gasps, and Dean knew he had to calm him down. "Sammy?"

Sam continued to look around, trying to reacquaint himself with his surroundings. He hadn't been here. Maybe it was a dream. No, it was too real. He had felt as though he were actually there, and he knew that he was. Maybe this was the dream. Maybe this was the in-between place, and he was dead.

Dean knew something had to be done. Sam was freaking out, starting to hyperventilate. He grabbed his baby brother's face by the chin, and forced him to look at him. "Sammy. Sam, I need you to calm down. Everything is okay. You're going to be just fine. Just take deep breaths." He instructed, continuing to talk until he was sure Sam had understood.

It took a few moments, but Sam's eyes became clear and his breath had calmed down enough for him to be considered safe. Dean still held his shaking brother with one hand. He rubbed little tiny circles on Sam's back, and waited a few minutes, just allowing him to relax. When the shivering had stopped and Sam wasn't frantically searching the room with his eyes, Dean spoke once more. "Can you tell me what it was, Sam?" He asked gently, not wanting to get the kid upset again.

"Dean...I don't know. I was...I don't know. I just...I had a nightmare. I don't know what happened. It was so real. I was dying." Sam said, showing signs that he was numb from the experience and the shock of it. He was out in space, and Dean became more aggressive with the circles he was rubbing in Sam's back, trying to keep him from going into a state of shock.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna let you die. I didn't when you were in the hospital, and I'm not gonna now. It was probably just a dream of when you were in the hospital, something you didn't remember until now." Dean knew that red lights and flashing bells should have been going off. Sam did have visions of when things were going to happen. Stubbornly, he ignored the warning, though, sure in his ability to keep Sam safe. It was his duty, something he had always done, even more so since Sam had been sick. He wouldn't let anything happen.

Sam started shaking again, out from under the blanket and calmed down enough to notice his surroundings. He let the subject drop for right now. It didn't happen here. Nothing had happened here, and he would just need to be careful when they did find the place. So, even though everything in him told him not to do it since Jess had died, he let go of the dream. "Dean, it's cold in here."

Dean looked at him with an incredulous look on his face. It was the middle of April in Tennessee and it was pretty warm, even at this time of the night. The room was actually warm enough for him to wear a t-shirt to bed right now, but he went to the thermostat, and turned up the temperature a little bit. "Get back in bed, Sam." He said, trying to shake this off. They had a long day ahead of them, and they were almost three quarters of the way there. He needed as much sleep as possible for when they went to go investigate. Sam laid back in bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to go back to sleep. Dean had turned the light out, allowing Sam the time to go back to sleep. When he was sure that Sam was resting peacefully, he sat up and stood guard, watching his baby brother for any signs of a nightmare, until the morning came.

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Thanks for reading this chapter. I hope you liked it. Please feel free to leave any type of review, whether it be praise, constructive criticism, or a question. I love both long and short reviews. The long ones give you an idea of how your writing is, and the short one encourage you as well. 


	3. Getting to Georgia

Here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long to get up, busy week. I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much for the reviews.

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The next evening, the black Chevy Impala pulled into a parking spot outside of the Thunderbird Inn . Sam had done pretty good today, but Dean was still glad that they were now in Savannah. Some where around the southern part of South Carolina it had started to rain, and the closer they got, the worse the storm became. For the past thirty miles or so, Sam had been completely silent, and Dean could swear that he was biting on his fingernails. It would be easier to get Sam to lay down on the bed and go to sleep now that they had reached their destination. After paying for the room with one of his credit cards, Dean came back and got Sam. Sammy's feet shuffled as he walked, as if he hadn't slept in days, and Dean sighed, out of concern.

"When we get in there, lay down. I'll take care of everything." Dean told his baby brother coming up to their room. He opened the door, watching Sam work to get his things in.

Walking into the hotel room, Sam started to open the laptop and start it. "Sammy, why don't you just lay down?" Dean asked sternly, and then wondered why he had just expected Sam to listen.

"I'm going to look up some more information on this thing, and then I promise, I'm going to sleep." Sam said, putting his hands in the air in a surrender position. Dean rolled his eyes, and reached for the remote. He didn't understand why he had to be such a stubborn ass. They both knew that he was tired, but he wouldn't slow down. After surfing the channels for a moment, trying to find something interesting, he settled on watching the evening news.

"In local news, another suicide has happened at the Savannah College of Art and Design, in the Oglethorpe House. This brings the death toll to nine over the last semester. Channel three reporter April Daniels is live from where she is speaking with President Patricia Walker and Gary Freeman, the security director on campus. Over to you, April." The main news anchor said in the professional clipped tone.

Dean glanced around for a moment to make sure that Sam had got that, and saw that Sam was already finding the website for the station. He looked back at the television, listening to the campus president and security chief stumble to explain why this was happening and what they were doing to stop it. These people really thought, even if everything was as it seemed, that they would stop things from happening simply by offering more counseling and having students make sure their friends were okay. Suicide, all things being usual, was committed by people who didn't really have any friends, no one to turn to. Glancing back over his shoulder, he met eyes with Sam for a brief moment. He never knew how Sam had adjusted those first few months he was at Stanford, didn't see the reaction to his brother finding out that he was sick. Had Sam felt like killing himself in those times? The thought had never really occurred to him, but now, hearing about all this, he wondered. They should have gone back to check on him before the beginning of the spring semester that first year, but they had both been too angry with him for leaving. He shook the thoughts off, and continued to watch the news coverage. When it was done, he got off the bed and came over to where Sam sat at the round table in the room.

"So, what do we have?" Dean asked, plopping down in the chair next to Sam and moving it closer so that he could look at the computer, too.

"Well, technically nothing. The news stations didn't have the victims names' in the story, but there are obits. Two people, a guy and a girl, who attended the college are in _there_. The guys name is Benjamin, and he worked in the building part-time. It sounds like this guy had everything going for him. It's the same with the girl. Amanda had just graduated from high school early and was at the college for her first semester. She's originally from Florida, and it's always been a dream of hers to go to this school. She lived in the building." Sam listed off the information that he had found, and looked back at his big brother.

"How do you know that?"

"She went into her dorm room, and slashed her wrists. Her boyfriend found her like that." Sam said.

"That's in an obit?" Dean got closer, trying to find it there.

"No. It's in a separate article." Sam said, flipping the screens so that the article came up. It had a picture of her, and after looking at it for a moment, Dean quickly assessed his brother. She was the spitting image of the woman that he had seen in his brother's apartment the night he had come for his help. Sam was still somber, but he didn't seem overly distraught. Maybe he was just high-strung about the case and overreacting, but either way, he wasn't going to bring up the similarities.

"So, maybe this thing isn't controlling them through that window. I mean, we know that the first suicide happened through the window, but she could be controlling these people some other way. Maybe it's the whole building, or it could be something else." Dean started getting excited because this case was more than just replace the window and find, salt, and burn the bones. He looked through his notes. "Okay, so we've found at least two of the suicides where the woman was pregnant, but these were the obvious ones. This guy, Benjamin, did he have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, a wife. They were trying to have a baby, but so far nothing." Sam said, looking over at his brother, confused with his line of thinking.

"How about this girl, Amanda, was she pregnant?" Dean continued on, and Sam saw where he was going.

"No, she wasn't. She had the boyfriend, but it would have said if she were pregnant." Sam said, shooting Dean's idea down. "There might not be a way that she's picking her victims. It could just be random, or maybe it has to do with them having someone that they're either dating or married to. It could be that they were just passing by the area and were just the most vulnerable to an attack. Dean, we have to go down there, and see what we can find, if there's any EVP activity."

Sam started to get up and grab the light jacket he had been wearing, but Dean stopped him. "It's raining, you're still really susceptible to colds and flus, and you're tired. We can wait until the morning. Go take a shower and go to bed." His voice was stern and left no room for argument. Sam had been quiet since they got into Georgia, even before then, and he was getting sick of it. His lack of talking about things even in the least chick-flick-like way had gotten them in trouble in the past more than once. Dean didn't want a full-on chick flick moment. They'd had enough of those in the hospital to last a lifetime. It would be nice to not be kept in the dark, though.

Sam went into the bathroom with the shirt that he was going to wear that night, and locked the door behind him. The images that assaulted him for the last few hours had not gone away, but had became worse. He didn't remember much of the hospital, but he did remember that Dean was there. It would benefit him more to say that they were just memories that had been buried from when he was sick. The images made him sick though, and couldn't be described as accurate memories. He saw Dean leaned over him as he laid on a floor, heard the hitch in Dean's voice as he told him to hold on and that he was going to get him some help. He knew it was a floor, though, because he could feel the cold tile under his body. He saw the pill bottles sitting on top of the sink, rolled over. Had he passed out before taking the pills and Dean found him? There was a cold dread in his stomach that told him he was dying when all this was happening. He quickly pushed aside the thought that the cancer had come back. It would be too hard for Dean to go through again, especially if he had to go it alone. He had already been enough of a burden, and so he didn't talk.

He started to get ready for a shower and then decided a bath would be much better. As he leaned down to get the water started and ready, he felt vertigo, and sat down quickly on his knees, waiting for the dizziness to pass. The floor underneath him was cold tile, and the panic from the moment helped to ease the vertigo enough for him to spring to his feet, trying hard to get away from the floor. Noticing the tub was almost full, he stripped down and got in. This was the place where he was going to die, or at least come close to it. '_And this is why knowing things others don't sucks._' He thought as he slid down into the tub.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to review in any way you would like, whether it be critique, praise, or a question.

I will try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible. Monday at the latest.


	4. Research Finds

Here's the next chapter, on Monday night, as promised. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you for all the reviews that you've given me. It's encouraging to see some of the same names that reviewed my last story. Awesome!

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Dean wanted to bang his head against the table. They had been looking through records here in the library for over an hour, and they couldn't find anything. So many things had happened in that whole dormitory building, that he wondered why the building wasn't just torn down and made into a nice safe little parking garage. There weren't any answers about the first girl that had killed herself though.

Sam was bothering him, too. After an hour last night, Dean had unlocked the bathroom door with a credit card, sure that something had happened to his brother. He had been laying, propped up in the bathtub, sleeping. Dean had been reluctant to wake him, but he reminded himself that the water was cold and Sam could get sick. After he woke him and went back out of the room, Sam had come out like nothing had happened. When he had asked him what was going on, Sam got defensive. Sam had even tried to get involved with what he had found in his search for any more information, but he had reminded his little brother that he fell asleep in the bathtub, and that he needed to go to sleep. The younger boy had rolled his eyes, but went to lie down in bed.

Dean had stayed awake after that, partially wanting to get as much information as he could so they could get out of here, and partially waiting for the nightmare that he instinctively knew was coming. Sam didn't disappoint him either. A little over an hour later, Sam started thrashing on the bed, trying to get away from the invisible force that held him. Dean had sat there for a few moments in time, contemplating whether he should help his brother or let him work it out on his own. The parts of him that were frustrated over the silence that Sam had adapted to said to leave him be, that maybe if he had to suffer through this then he would be much more willing to talk about things; but the big brother in him won out. He went over to the side of the bed and shook Sam, calling out to him. Sam was still struggling, and he knew there was a possibility of getting hit, but he stayed there until Sam's eyes opened. It was a repeat of the night before, down to the bewildered look on his baby brother's face. Usually, Sam would calm himself down, but it took an hour and a George Foreman infomercial to get him back to sleep. Something wasn't right. He knew it, but he kept it to himself. There was something about the way that Sammy was acting, his dreams, that told Dean that either he was sick once again, knew it, and wouldn't tell anyone, or that something worse was happening. For now, though, he ignored it, doggedly believing that if he ignored it, this would go away.

Now, they were searching for information again. Dean was working on about an hour of sleep, and despite the two cups of coffee he had drank, he was still grumpy. Every little thing that Sam did annoyed the hell out of him. He knew that he wasn't perfect, and to expect the same out of Sam was impossible, but right now, he understood why their dad had yelled at him so often. Hell, he wanted to throttle the kid right now. Every time Sam tilted his head or tapped his pen on the table, it made Dean more upset. He almost got up and left, needing the time to cool off and let the aggression die down. There was an annoyed thought, the same one that had been concerned for more than a day, that if he left Sammy alone, something bad would happen to him. It was like something he couldn't control, and there was nothing else besides his psyche making him feel this way.

Sam felt like he was getting a lot accomplished. So far, he had gotten the public records of what had happened with the first girl, Rachel Conner, and the names and addresses of family members. He knew that from here, he needed to go talk to these people. Her little sister, who had been eleven at the time of her sister's suicide was now thirty-five years old. Most of these people would be at least middle-aged, and a lot of them wouldn't want to talk about someone who had died more than twenty years ago. It was the only way, though. A suicide on a college campus wasn't that big of a news story, even at that time, and what they did cover, wouldn't lead them to any real findings. He eyed Dean once more. These people would be even more reluctant to help someone who looked like he had gone a few rounds with the devil. His brother wasn't in the best of moods though. Sam doubted that he would let him go to the dorm house to go see what he could find out while Dean went and talked to actual people. This whole thing was just so frustrating. Dean would be a lot better off if he didn't have drag him along behind him.

The last bit of information that he got was the address and criminal record of the boy who had left Rachel when he found out she was pregnant. This man might be able to shed some light on the situation if he was willing to talk about any of it. They needed to chance it. He stood, closing out the program on the computer in front of him that had given him these names. Dean saw this and closed out what he had been looking for. They walked almost side by side out of the building, stopping only when they reached the Impala. Sam stood next to the driver's side door, and held out his hand for the keys. "I don't think so." Dean scoffed, and walked up to the door himself. The frustration in his tone was palpable, and so Sam reluctantly sighed and walked over to the passenger door. He waited while Dean unlocked his door, got in, sat there silently for over a minute to get his bearings, and then reached over, unlocking the passenger door.

"So, what did you find?" Dean wanted to know as soon as they got in the car. He looked over expectantly at his brother.

"Not much as far as public records go, but I did find her family members, and a few friends that were mentioned in the obit. The friends would be maybe forty-five years old, not likely to talk to us about something that happened when they were in college. I did, however, find her boyfriend. His name is Dane Underwood. He's forty-seven now, and lives in...Olney, Geogia. There's a criminal record on this guy going back to the early 1980's. Dean, this could have been a murder, seeing all the other things this guy has gotten charged with. Assault, assault, battery, assaulting an officer of the law and resisting arrests, armed robbery, domestic battery in 1996, and about ten disorderly conducts. Isn't there some law about three strikes and you're out?" Sam told him, trying to sound sure of himself. He knew that the legal joke he had made had flopped, and that Dean was showing no signs that he actually even heard the joke.

"Would he give us any more information than any of her old friends? This guy left her because he found out she was pregnant. In 1981, it was impossible to make a man pay child support, especially if he was never married to the child's mother. Why stick around and kill her when he had other things to worry about? I just don't think that idea is plausible. We know he was part of why she killed herself, but that's it." The passion of the hunt was beginning to make his anger ebb.

"Can we just try looking into this? At the very least, he may know something that would help us to destroy the spirit. There's no listing of where her remains are even at." Sam explained.

Dean sighed, frustrated that after so many years hunting with their dad, Sam couldn't even read an obit. "Sammy, when there is no burial place listed, it means we get to figure out where the ashes are. She's been cremated."

This wasn't good. They could still do this, but it meant breaking into someone's home to get to the ashes. "I still think we should talk to Dane."

"Okay. Where did you say this place was?" Dean asked, trying to see over into Sam's notes. Realizing that Sam's handwriting had only gotten worse with time, he complained. "You know, you should have been a doctor, not a lawyer."

"It's in Olney. That's about thirty miles from here. We really need to invest in a G.P.S. system, Dean." Sam said, joking with his brother.

"Yeah, well, you gonna pay for it, college boy?" Dean snapped, his voice revealing the fact that his bad mood was returning. He started the car, and begin to drive.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to review any way that you would like: Constructive criticism, praise, or question. It's always really appreciated.

By the way, "Route 666" comes on tomorrow night...just in case anyone forgot.


	5. Finding Dane

Hey, sorry it's been so long for me to update. I'm back, though. Thank you so much for the reviews and for continuing to read my story even though I haven't updated in a while.

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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Sam was quiet the whole way, signaling that something was bothering him. Dean could feel the storm brewing. Sure, the sky had turned a color closely resembling black, and he found himself wondering when the hurricane season started, but it was more than that. He could feel pain radiating off of Sammy. With a sigh, he admitted that whatever was going on would soon come to a head. There was still time to fix things, but he knew Sammy wouldn't talk to him about it, so why waste the time. So, they continued on in silence, Sam looking out the window with a far-off look to his face, while Dean watched the road, ignoring that Sam was in another world all of his own.

When they saw the sign welcoming them to Olney, Sam broke from his daze and looked at the directions he had. It wasn't too far from where they needed to be, but he wanted to turn back. The vision was back, was eating away at him. He could see the blood, feel Dean's arms around him, only now, he felt himself bleeding, shaking, shivering, and the sensation of a seizure that he had only experienced once before in his life when he had a fever as a child. He could even feel Dean's arms around him, his scalding hot tears dripping onto his icy cold face. Whatever was going to happen, Dean was going to be scared, probably even for his life. He needed to get away from Dean so that he didn't cause him that much grief. There had already been enough grief to last the rest of their lives. He did not need more before Sam actually died.

"Turn left here, Dean." Sam said as they neared the place where they needed to get off the highway. He needed to focus on this task at hand.

Dean took the turn, cursing that Sam hadn't told him sooner, as Sam looked back at the directions. Something felt cold all of a sudden. They needed to be going away from here, not toward. "Dean, we need to go back." His mind raced, not letting him in on what was so important. Something was seriously wrong, but he could not grasp it to figure out what it was.

"What? Why do we need to go back?" Dean asked, incredulous that they had gotten almost there, possibly within a few blocks, and now he was being told to go back.

"I don't know. We just need to go back. Something is not right." Sam's voice shook as he spoke. He didn't know what it was, but something about being here made his stomach hurt.

"Sam, we'll just go there for a few minutes. If you still don't feel right, we'll go, okay?" Dean knew that it was serious, and he was willing to compromise. He trusted that Sam knew what he was talking about, but wanted to make sure.

They pulled up to the house where Dane lived, and Sam felt the pain get worse. Pushing it aside, he got out of the car, following Dean. Dean knocked for a moment, but then changed tactics. The man was obviously not there. If they broke into the house, they could probably find more information anyway. He went around to the back of the house, getting up on a patio chair while pushing the window closest to the ground open. Sam came up behind him and helped him in the window. After his brother was in the house, he propped himself up to follow him. Dean appeared in the window. "Sam! Go back to the car, now!" He yelled, anxiety lacing his voice.

"What is it?" Sam asked, still trying to get in the window.

"Damnit, just listen to me!" Dean yelled again. Sam backed down, turning to go back to the Impala. He knew when to listen, and when to back off and let his big brother handle things.

Dean looked at the scene around him. It had been a while since Dane had been alive. What truly scared Dean, what made him want to take Sam and run was how he had died. Apparently, this chick didn't need the person to be actually in that building. Dane had shot himself while sitting in his recliner in the living room of his own home. He probably hadn't even been to that college in years, maybe even as far back as the day he dumped Rachel more than twenty years ago. It had probably been days since he had shot himself judging by the amount of decay that was on the body. Dean was glad that he had gone in first. There was no way he wanted Sam to see this... not after everything that he had been through in the past few months.

Ignoring the body laying there, Dean looked for the man's desk. Maybe he had some papers that could help them. After a quick search of the house, he decided that the man didn't own any papers, not even a newspaper, and made his way out of the house. When he got out of the house and was headed toward the car, he made a quick call to the police to let them know that the man was dead.

Sam was waiting in the car when he came back. He was doubled over in the seat, arms wrapped around his stomach. "Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to see what was wrong.

"Just get us out of here," Sam said through clenched teeth, his breath coming in harsh choking gasps. Dean wasted no time, getting in himself and pulling out of the driveway as quickly as the mud under his tires would allow him. Red soil. Red blood. He blanked his mind, trying to ignore the memory. When he got a mile down the road, he looked over at Sam. His brother was doing much better. The color that had drained from his face when Dean came back to the car had come back, and he was not crunched up anymore. He knew he should have listened, and didn't know why he didn't.

"You feeling better?" Dean asked, glancing over and trying to look like he was not worried.

"Yeah. Dean, what was in that house?" Sam asked. His voice was quieter than usual, sounding more like Sammy the child than Sam the man. He knew he needed to be honest, even if he made his brother uncomfortable. If something were to happen to Sammy... He just needed to know what was going on so that he could protect himself.

"Her boyfriend committed suicide. It wasn't pretty, Sammy. He had been there for a couple days at least. He also didn't have _any_ kind of paper in his house, whatsoever. So, we are back to square one. All we know is that she can reach further than a dorm room down the hall." Dean said, hoping that Sam didn't ask any more questions. "She could reach you." He said under his breath.

"Did you call the police, so that they know he's dead?" Sam asked, still quietly. Something was still bothering him beyond what he had found in the house, but Dean let it go for now. They had forever to deal with things, and he did not want to deal with a brooding Sam right now, no matter how worried this whole incident had him. They were in new territory with Sam's visions. Dean made a mental note to look through Dad's journal to see what he had written about it. It would be better to actually have the man here so that they could talk in person and figure things out as a team, but he had to take what he could get.

"Yes, Sam! I'm not just going to let his body lay there." Dean snapped. Sam knew that something was going wrong. There was nothing that either of them alone could do to stop the visions he had been having from coming true.

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Hope you liked the chapter. Please feel free to review any way you would like. Happy hunting. 


	6. Entering the Dorms

Hey, sorry there hasn't been an update in a while. I've been busy with school stuff. I promise it will be less than a week before I post another chapter this time. Thank you for all the reviews and for sticking in there with me. On with the show...

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The silence that had taken over the car on the way back to Savannah was starting to freak Dean out. Between that and what had happened back in Olney, something was seriously wrong. Sammy was keeping something hidden in that freaky head of his. The one time Dean had tried to get him to talk, though, Sam had ignored him, choosing instead to stare out the window. It was as if Sammy had checked out on him, but Dean knew he wasn't sleeping. At one point, he thought he was, because Sammy had started breathing quickly, sounding very much like he was trying to get away from something. It hadn't lasted long, maybe a minute and a half, and since then, he had just been in his own world. Pulling up to the dormitory parking lot, Dean announced "We're here." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it that he could not quite keep contained, and he wondered if Sammy even noticed it.

Sam shifted in his seat, turning to face Dean. The images had been assaulting him since they had left Dane's house, and he could feel them drawing closer. They shouldn't be here. Something was going to attack them that he couldn't control. For a brief moment, he considered telling his big brother what was going on. Maybe together they could deal with it, keep it from happening. This thing was going to affect them both. Hearing the aggravation in his brother's voice, Sam decided against it. Whatever was going to happen, it had not happened yet. He could still take care of it, make sure it didn't happen on his own. With any luck, he could take care of it without Dean ever knowing there was a problem. The two brothers sat there, looking silently at one another, each one feeling their emotions beginning to get out of control. Both were scared, and yet neither one wanted to voice it.

Sam was the first to break the silence, as he turned toward the door and left the car. Dean followed suit, stopping himself just short of screaming at his brother to say something. He was being to quiet and it made his nerves stand on edge. "Okay, so most of the activity has been happening on the sixth floor, right? What floor did Amanda live on again?"

"Amanda lived in room 301, three floors directly below where the epicenter is." Sam informed him, looking at the piece of paper that he had printed off that stated her address.

"What was she doing on the sixth floor then?" Dean asked, thinking aloud.

"I don't know. Maybe she had friends up there or something." Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. He smiled, shaking his head. Dean had no reason to be asking about why she was on that floor, except to divert his attention from what was going on in his head. It made him happy, and he was proud to have Dean as a big brother. They searched for an elevator, only to find that it was out of order. "I think I know why she really killed herself." Dean grumbled, not liking the idea of climbing six flights of stairs in the mid-April heat.

Sam shook his head, chuckling a little. "Why don't we find a janitor, and have him give us a key to Amanda's apartment? That way, we can stop halfway up."

"Good thinking, Sammy." Dean told him, and started walking. In his head, Sam said '_Sam_,' knowing that it was pointless to argue the point.

After finding the custodian, Sam and Dean walked into the apartment where this eighteen-year-old had lived. It looked like a typical teenage girl's room, complete with posters of Chad Michael Murray and Orlando Bloom. From all of the pictures of her friends and the flowers on everything, it looked like she had been happy. Even the monitor on her computer looked like it belonged in a little girl's room. Sam counted down the second for a moment, and was surprised when Dean didn't comment on the pink computer. Dean picked up a bottle of vitamins that he had found in the desk drawer and cleared his throat, lifting them up so that Sam could see. "Prenatal vitamins?" Sam asked, suspiciously eyeing the bottle. "I guess we've found a pattern with the girls. Do you think her boyfriend knew?"

"I don't know, Sam. We should go talk to him after we leave here, though." Dean said, as he continued to snoop through her desk.

Sam walked toward the bathroom. It was a quaint little space, and not surprisingly, looked as though an artist should live here. It was a plethora of colors and mixtures of different fabrics and surfaces that had been combined to look kind of neat. He got in front of the small vanity mirror, noting the hand-carved pattern on the side of it. He started to open the cabinet, when it happened. The door slammed shut, locking behind him. He tried for a moment to get out of there, when he sensed that there was something behind him. Turning, he caught an image of Jessica with only one small difference: Her stomach was much larger. He would have gauged her at about eight months pregnant, but it was not possible. She would have told him if she was pregnant, would have kept him from leaving her that night. The news would have made his life brighter, knowing that they could have that family he always wanted. Her image transformed, small cuts forming huge pools of blood and she turned into a dark-haired woman with stunning eyes that bore into him. The room spun, and he knew he was falling to the floor. Reality set back in. He was sitting on the floor, and could hear Dean yelling to him from the other side of the door. It was only a moment before the door was pushed open, and Dean stood over him.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, after hearing the door slam. He went to it and pounded, trying to get in but it seemed to be locked. He kept begging through the door, calling out to the only family that was still with him, wondering if this was the bad thing that had them both on edge. As he heard a noise of something heavy dropping within less than a minute later, he pushed the door open, still calling out for Sam to answer him. When the door finally opened, he was greeted with the vision of his brother sitting on the floor with a dumbfounded look on his face. "Are you okay?" He demanded, trying not to be too rough, but rough enough to elicit a response.

"Yeah, Dean...I just thought I saw something." Sam stammered out. He looked shook up, exhausted. Dean grabbed his arm, helping him to his feet in one grand swoop, supporting him from under his arms.

"Should we call it a day?" Dean asked, concern present in his voice.

"No. I'm fine. Let's just keep looking." It was hard to focus, but if they didn't find something out, someone else would die.

"Okay, well, I think we've found what we were going to find here, so let's just go upstairs." Dean wanted to get as much distance between this dorm room and his brother as possible.

Sam left the apartment first, and Dean took one last glance around the room before he closed and locked the door. His baby brother was withdrawing, and he had a feeling that it would only continue to get worse. He was exhausted, but not letting on. Dean would have understood if he needed some time to catch up after the ordeal they had been through, but Sam was trying to be one hundred percent on the first day.

The stairs seemed to be getting steeper the further up they went. Stopping on the top step to try to catch his breath, Sam sat down on the steps and rested his head in his arms. He could not figure out why it was so hard, and worried that maybe the doctors had all lied to him and his brother. Maybe he wasn't better at all, but they just didn't have the heart to tell them. Dean stood a few steps down now, directly in front of him, and the look of concern was too much to bear. First he was annoyed, and now he wants to play worried big brother. He picked himself up, to get away from the scrutiny.

They were in the hallway now, the place where Rachel Conner had killed herself. Both of the brothers looked at the window with dread. This was where it was all stemmed from, where some angry girl had taken her life. Sam looked over at Dean for a moment, trying to convey to him that he had the same feeling now as he had when they were nearing Dane's house. Something bad was about to happen.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to review with any kind of review whether it be constructive criticism, praise, or questions.

Also, as an extra note. Sensue is doing a fan fiction award thing at her site. Go nominate **your** stories. This is a plug for her, and for you to get recognized, because there are some wonderful stories out there.


	7. Gotcha

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable in the story is not mine, including the boys. They belong to Eric Kripke and the WB.

Sorry for the delay, a lot has happened in my life and I couldn't find any time to update. Thank you so much for sticking with my story, and for the reviews that I got. Also, thanks for reminding me to update.

In the beginning of this chapter, Dean acts a little out of charactor. It's part of the story and will be explained later on in another chapter.

Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

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Dean looked down the hallway at the window, and then back at his baby brother. When their eyes met, he knew that something was wrong. Sam had a look of panic on his face, and for a moment, Dean felt the anger well up within him. It didn't seem right that his brother was so fragile. He was so sick of having to carry someone who should be old enough to take care of themself. It didn't matter in that one moment that Sam was his little brother; all that he saw was a burden with a bull's eye attached to his neck. Sam had always been like that. He had always needed to babysit him, and sometimes, he just wanted to be rid of him. Let the monsters get him. Maybe then, he wouldn't have to always be the savior. As quickly as the anger had come over him, it receded. Dean looked at Sam once again, eyes wide as he watched him slowly move towards him. They needed to get away from here. For one brief, but oddly clear, moment, he had been ready to hurt the one loyal remaining member of their tiny family. Fearing for Sam's safety, Dean came close to telling him to go back to the car. He could deal with this himself, but something was after Sammy. He was being targeted by this woman. Pushing passed the fear for Sam, he continued to walk down the hallway.

Sam followed closely behind his brother, taking shallow breaths. While it looked normal enough here, like the inside of his own dorm room during his first year at Stanford, his stomach was in knots and his heart beat out of control, trying to push passed the walls of his chest. Something here was going to hurt him, and he had no idea where the threat was going to come from. This woman was going to do something to him, and they did not have enough information to stop her. His breath was coming out in short gasps now. Sweat creased his brow, the room spun around him, and his felt disconnected. Numbness had settled into his face and the tips of his fingers, and it all had such a surreal quality to it. He was panicking, could feel himself slipping, but denied it to himself. He was struggling to regain control. When they were on the airplane, so long ago, he had told Dean that he was leaving himself wide open for demonic possession. If this was what he was doing now, he needed to control it if he had any hope of stopping the inevitable from happening. He grabbed a wall with one hand, watching as Dean walked away, willing away the feelings of foreboding.

Dean walked up to the window, feeling the edges to see if anything was out of the ordinary. He looked out over the edge, noticing that the screen had been removed. The window itself was modern, both the top and the bottom having the ability to open, with no screen. If they had put in an older window, maybe the people who killed themselves here would not have been able to succeed. Then again, the screen hadn't been able to stop Rachel from jumping, had it? He looked down to the ground below, noticing the rose bush lining the building. Sam came up behind him, and Dean moved away, all of a sudden feeling too close.

Sam leaned over the window to get a better look at what Dean had found, when he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. Everything became quickly dimmed and a white light flashed in front of his eyes. A feeling of cold paralyzed him, and he struggled to yell for Dean. Sam felt like he was going to fall out the window for a minute, saw an image of himself hitting the ground below, but strong arms grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him back. A whirlwind of lights and sounds surrounded him and he heard his own screams over the bright hell that had enveloped him. He stumbled when the hands let go of him, and fell on the harsh floor, clutching his own hands to his head. It was too much; his brain was going to explode, grey matter everywhere. In a split second, it was over. He was left sitting there, bewildered and shaken. His eyes darted around, seeking the solace that his brother could provide. Huge eyes finally looked up at Dean, willing him to understand that something was seriously wrong. It was too late.

Dean had been standing in close proximity to his brother when he saw him stumble. He was standing so close to the window and he pitched forward, making the older Winchester's heart stop. Dean grabbed him in a tight embrace by the shoulders, pulling him back inside the window, trying to hold him steady. Sam started screaming, no recognition in his almond-shaped hazel eyes. The younger man tore away from him, breaking the connection that he had with his baby brother. Fear had found a new place in Dean's heart as he ran through all the worst-case scenarios in his head. So many things could be wrong, and he had no way to fix any of them. After a few brief moments of terror, the screaming stopped and Sam looked up at him with huge eyes, expecting him to do something, to help him. He would answer the call, even if he had to move heaven and earth to do it. Nothing was going to hurt his little brother while he was around. Placing one arm protectively under his brother's arm to help carry him, Dean pulled Sam to his feet and slowly started walking. Sam tried to veer off towards the window, but Dean moved them back towards the goal. It would be a hard trip, Sam this out of it with no elevator, but Dean needed to get him out of here. They needed to get some distance so that they could figure out what had gone wrong and how to fix it.

Lifting himself up on wobbly legs, Sam tried to figure out what had happened. He couldn't focus on anything, and it all seemed like a blur. He felt cold, empty, damaged in a way that he had never felt before. All he wanted to do was to sleep, to make it all go away, to wake up and have the confusion cleared up. Numbly, he allowed Dean to drag him from the ground. It took him awhile to remember that they were on the sixth floor. From this far up, if he were to jump from the window, he would die. He started to slowly make his way back to the window, staccato movements marking how out of it he truly was. Dean must have seen the direction he was going in, because he gently pulled him towards the stairs they had come up.

They took the stairs at a slower pace than they had coming up because Sam didn't feel right. For some reason, he felt shaken, unsteady and weak. He felt like the floor was opening up and sucking him in. Never before had he felt so alone, and even Dean's hand placed gently on his shoulder did nothing to ease the ache. After everything, he didn't deserve it, to have Dean still care for him. After everything...he was still there. It didn't seem fair to drag him down like that.

Dean sat his kid brother down in the passenger seat of the Impala, after quickly maneuvering the door open with one hand. The other hand remained constantly on the most precious thing in his world, willing whatever had taken hold to free him. The fear that he had felt under the surface overtook him as Sammy did his best impression of catatonia. Dean knelt down on the ground with one knee, looking in on him with terrified eyes. They remained still, as two parts of a one whole they had been trained to be, for many long minutes. Sam stared absently ahead of him, and Dean waited. After about half an hour, Sam blinked, moving away from his brother.

"Let's go," Sam said with a hallow sound to his voice that made Dean's blood freeze. His voice hadn't carried that hollow of a sound since he had told Dean he didn't want to stay with Lori, months ago. He helped Sam get into the car completely, closing the door behind him. In one quick move, he made his way over to the driver's seat, starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot.

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Hope you liked this chapter. I will have another one up in a week or less. Please feel free to review with praise, constructive criticism, questions, or anything you'd like.

Happy hunting.


	8. The Motive

General Disclaimers. I own nothing.

Thank you guys for the reviews. I really appreciate it. Special thanks to Kaewi and Celtic-Spaniard. You guys have given me awesome encouragement.

This is not OOC, it's a part of the story, so just read into it and assume it fits. Hope you guys like the chapter.

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Glancing over at his brother from the corner of his eye, Sam sighed in frustration. It only took a few short minutes to get back to the hotel, but Dean kept staring at him at the red lights. He needed to get out of this car, away from his brother, so that he could think. Thoughts raced through his head, telling him that he should kill himself, that his life wasn't going anywhere anyway. An overwhelming aching settled into his heart and he allowed himself to wallow in it. His life was so messed up, had been so messed up for a while. It would be easier to just...not be here anymore.

His whole life, he'd been a heavy burden for his family. If he had never been born, they would still be a family. They would all still be happy, Mom, Dad, and Dean. He was never supposed to be here in the first place. The demon should have just taken him. His father had always blamed him, been distant because he knew. Maybe that was why they were never allowed to help him with the demon; their father knew that if the demon had killed their mom over his crib, then it must have been after him. The fact that the man had left him was proof enough of that. He couldn't even stand to be in the same room for very long. Sure, the man made his appearance when Sam was sick, but that was to ease his older son's stress. Even then he'd wanted out. There would be no great loss for him when he went to his younger son's funeral, sitting next to Dean with a stoic look on his face.

Dean would be upset for a while, but after a while, he'd realize that it had been for the best. He could stop trying to be Superman all the time, just let his guard down. There wouldn't be an obligation to help his poor baby brother anymore. He'd realize the curse that Sam had been, would find the demon that killed their mother, had killed Jessica, and would realize that Sam had been to blame. This time, he could be the noble one, the one to make the sacrifice. Dean wouldn't be in danger if he weren't around. This demon wouldn't continue to see him as just another obstacle in the struggle to get to Samuel Winchester. He'd be freed.

Looking over at his brother, his decision was cemented. He knew that he had caused so many problems when he was sick, the months that Dean had been forced to sit with him and worry over him. They said "remission," but what if he got sick again? Sam could not be that much of a burden on his brother again. He needed to get out before he became a problem again. Right now, he couldn't keep up with Dean. Sure, this case wasn't being held back by him, but what about the next one? He was just slowing his big brother down and it would eventually get him killed. Dean wouldn't be in danger if he weren't around.

Sam stared out the window, watching the blur of things they were passing by in the car through the rain that pelted down on the window. It had started to rain somewhere along the way. This fit the melancholy of his mood, and he let it wash him away. If Jessica and his mom couldn't be here anymore than he would come to them. It would be so much better anyway. He could be with them, and he could rest. Between the nightmares and the ordeal that he had just been forced to go through, he was wiped. He could just lay down and sleep and let things end. This nagging feeling that he was the hunted most of the time would end, and he could be at peace. Just mostly, he could find the peace that he had been searching for his whole life. He could be the master of his own fate instead of waiting for some demon to take his destiny for him. This needed to be done.

They pulled up in front of the hotel and Sam looked blankly in front of him. It all seemed so bleak, so heavy and there was only one way to make things better. He was struck with another image of being on a floor and looking up at Dean, who was yelling into a phone. In the back of his mind, Sam knew that this was wrong, that all of these thoughts were irrational, but something was driving him that seemed out of his control. He laid his head back on the headrest, and closed his eyes, willing the tears to reside. There was a pain in his chest that would not die and he felt a tightening in his throat. He couldn't breathe, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, and trying to shake off the fatigue that had taken over his mind, he looked directly into the worried eyes of Dean. This would hurt him, but it needed to be done with. Taking a deep breath, he moved Dean's hand off his shoulder. "I'm fine."

Dean had spent the whole ride back to the motel, watching his baby brother being torn apart by something he could not see. Sammy seemed to hunch in on himself and he was looking out the window with a dazed expression on his face. Damn. They needed to do more research, find out more about this before they decided to come up against it. He was too damn quiet, and Dean could almost feel the angst coming off of him. When they stopped the car, Sam had stopped functioning, point blank stopped moving, stopped breathing and rested his head. Tears threatened his eyes, because he knew that no matter what, there was no way to protect Sammy from himself. He reached out, touching Sam's shoulder to offer his comfort. "I'm fine." The words, spoken in such a flat voice, almost made Dean laugh. If he were to look up "fine" in the dictionary, he would not find his brother. The kid was exhausted, stressed out, in pain, and now that he thought about it, way overdue to take his medication. "Sam- " he started, but was cut off.

"I'm going inside. I need a shower, Dean." Sam said, that same flat quality to his voice as he opened the car door and swung out. Dean was left in stricken silence. He opened his door and walked around the back to grab his bag and the laptop, thinking that Sam would do the same. When Sam continued to go inside, Dean felt a chill move over him. The rain poured down on him, and he knew something was off. He grabbed a bag with some clothes, his weapons bag, the laptop and, as an afterthought, the quilt that he could hopefully put on Sam to give him comfort. What the hell was going on?

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Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Once again, I will try to get another chapter up within a week. Please feel free to review in any way that you would like. 


	9. The Crime

Disclaimer: These boys do not belong to me; they belong to the genius that is Eric kripke. I promise not to try to sell it on Amazon, lol.

Okay, done with the next chapter. Thank you all for the reviews. Hope you're enjoying this story. I promise, what this and last chapter are about will be explained in the next chapters. It's not OOC, it's just part of the story. Bear with me. I hope that you enjoy this chapter.

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Sam walked into the motel, knowing that his brother was watching him. A deep sense of melancholy fell over everything, including himself. They would be fine when he was gone. His father would make sure that Dean was fine. He went into the bathroom, and gently closed the door behind him. Every little noise seemed to pierce his soul, and he felt detached from his body. Silently, he turned on the tap and brought water up to his face to cool and soothe. His eyes hurt so much, exhausted from the strain. Knocking came from the other side of the door. "Hey, you gonna change when you get out of the shower?" His brother's voice boomed through the door.

He stuck his head out for a moment. Dean was standing there with a pair of sweats in hand. "Thanks, man." He said, taking the clothes before disappearing behind the door again. As an afterthought, he locked the door. His brother would still be able to make his way in, but it would take a whole lot more effort. Turning and standing in front of the mirror again, he stood, staring at his reflection for a moment. This wasn't him anymore. Something else had taken over his life, and left him empty. His medicine, the life-saving pills that were supposed to keep him from getting sick again, had been left in here this morning. He picked up the four bottles, and eyed them for a minute. This was it, this was his one saving grace. It was the only way that anything would be right.

Slowly screwing the tops off of the pills, he stood and looked at the pills. Little, orange, round pills, and he scooped water from the tap into his mouth to chase down the fifty pills that were supposed to last him a month. Little white pills that looked like tiny aspirin, and he scooped the water into his mouth. Guilt began to gnaw at him. He knew that this was wrong, that he should not be doing this, but something was driving him, almost moving his hand for him. Dusty red ovals, and he scooped the water into his mouth. There was no turning back. He had swallowed more than one hundred pills. Finally, little blue pills with holes in the middle, and he scooped the water into his mouth. There was an off-taste in his mouth, worse than when he usually took the medicine, and he slid to the floor next to the tub to wait.

The fact that they had not eaten since breakfast helped the process of digesting the pills move quicker. This would hurt Dean; he knew this would hurt Dean. He hadn't thought it through. There was no way to disguise this one, no way to make it look like an accident. Dean would find the body, on the other side of the locked door, and be devastated. It was too late now; all of the previous thoughts, the emotions that had made him take this desperate step, fled from his mind, but it was too late. He felt weak, was getting weaker by the moment as he laid here now. Sitting had hurt too much, and now he laid flat on his back to stop the dizziness. He was so tired, and he closed his eyes, breath coming in harsh gasps. The choice had already been made, and it was the wrong one.

Dean was probably right outside the door, and if he gathered his strength, he could yell loud enough for his brother to hear him. He didn't though, because something was stopping him, telling him that this was right, and on the surface right now, he believed it. Even as he grew weaker, he knew that his brother would be better off without him. Their father would come back and together they would find the thing that killed his mother. He was scared, though. It wasn't what he had expected. In his mind, he imagined himself just going to sleep, but he felt everything. He felt his heart fluttering in his chest, making it harder to breathe.

"Dean..." He whispered, his voice coming out as a quiet croak. '_Please Dean, I need help_.' His nose was bleeding now, and he felt the blood dripping down his face. Blood that he was too weak to wipe away. It made him cold, and he shivered, wishing for all the world for the quilt that had kept him warm when he thought he was going to die last time. He wanted the comfort from the quilt, but more importantly, from his brother.

"Dean," He tried again, this time a little louder. His voice wouldn't reach. Looking up, he saw the bottles sitting on the counter of the sink, tipped over and rolling on the tilting sink. Quietly, he started to laugh, letting it turn into a weak but hysterical laugh. It had happened; all the things in his visions from the last couple of days, and he's ignored it. Tears fell from the side of his eyes, and he sobbed. God help him, he ignored it.

"Dean, please help me." He tried again, before his eyes slid shut and he passed out. The poison moved freely through his blood now, and Dean stood on the other side of the door, oblivious to what was happening.

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Hoped you enjoyed this chapter; I already have the next chapter mostly written, so it should be up in the next few days. Please feel free to comment any way that you would like, whether it be praise, constructive criticism or question. Just keep the flames to a minimum :) 


	10. Picking Up the Pieces

Standard Disclaimers apply.

Okay, does anybody else feel like they won the lottery this morning? I tried to post this chapter on Thursday and I am so glad that the site is back up.

Thank you for all the people that reviewed my story. It makes me happy to know that people are reading the story.

Well, on with the next chapter...

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Dean had been searching for about forty-five minutes, for any news articles on the girl who had originally killed herself in that building. He hadn't gotten much in the way of why this would be happening or how she was doing it, because his attention kept on being drawn to the bathroom door his brother was behind. As soon as they got back to the hotel, Sammy had locked himself in there. For a while, Dean had been able to convince himself that he was taking a bath, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong wasn't being shaken. Following the feeling that he was having, Dean went over to the door. That girl, Amanda, came back to his thoughts, and the adrenaline pumping through his body made him able to push the door in with little resistance. She had killed herself away from the site, by slashing her wrists. Where were Sammy's meds? The first thing that Dean saw was his brother on the floor. He was convulsing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Sammy!" He yelled, rushing to come to his brother's side. The pill bottles were on the sink, and as he picked them up, he saw that they were empty. It took every bit of willpower that he had to pull himself from his brother and run to the table where he had left his cell phone. He dialed 911, and waited while they answered.

"Emergency 911, what's your emergency?" The female voice on the other end of the phone answered.

"This is Dean Johnson. You have to come quick. I'm at the Thunderbird Hotel. My brother, Sam, has overdosed on some prescription medications. He's having convulsions. Please, you got to come. I don't know..." Dean's voice shook with emotion. He had never felt this much stress, even when Sam was laying in that hospital bed. Then, he had known somewhere in his heart that they would help him, would bring him back. This time, the paramedics might not even get to them in time. His baby brother could very well die on the cold tile floor in the bathroom of some random hotel.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy. I'm gonna get you help. Everything's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. They're gonna come and help you." Dean was on the verge of crying, the fear tearing him up in a way nothing else could. His baby brother had chosen this. Checking his brother's breathing again to make sure that he hadn't checked out, he noticed that it was getting more ragged, sounded harder for him to get the breath into his lungs. He knelt down on the floor, and tilted Sam's head back, held his nose, and breathed into his mouth. They continued this way, until the door was being opened, and the paramedics took over, giving him oxygen through a bag.

Dean leaned back on the wall, watching Sammy, not feeling anything in his own body. This couldn't be happening. He knew that there were other people who had gone down that hallway, and nothing had happened to them, but that the people who were vulnerable had done this. Sam was still weak, still trying to recover both physically and emotionally from the illness, and he shouldn't have let his guard down. He should have been watching his little brother. Wasn't that what he had always been taught to do? This time, he had neglected his responsibility, and Sammy was going to pay the price. He heard the medics talking through the deep haze that had taken over, and it didn't sound good. They were trying to get him on a stretcher and to the hospital as quickly as possible, but he was having a second seizure, and Dean could feel himself hyperventilating. The tears escaped from his eyes, and he felt absolutely lost.

Someone was grabbing his arm, pulling him from the room, and trying to talk to him. "Son? Can you hear me? Son, we need to know what happened. How long ago did he take the pills? Are these the only ones? We need to know, so that we can help him!" A middle aged man with red-hair stood before him, and only about half the words he said were really coming through to Dean.

He heard the man tell him that they needed the information so that they could know how to help Sammy, though. Struggling to find the words, even though his own throat was closing up, he stammered out what he thought was needed. "He...we... went over to that dorm. He seemed fine. We came back and he just- he locked himself in the bathroom, and I didn't try to stop him. I didn't know what he was going to do. I just thought..."

The boy's voice trailed off, and Jeff, the paramedic, knew he had to get him talking again. They didn't have all the information yet to help this kid's brother, and so he tried again. "How long ago did he take the pills? Are they the only ones?"

Dean shook himself from his thoughts, and looked at the man. "I don't... about an hour. He has Leukemia. He's in remission. Those pills were supposed to help him. They were supposed to make him better."

"Are the ones on the sink the only ones that he took?"

"Yes, those are all of them. This is a mistake. He just was probably tired and took too many." Dean tried to reason. He knew that this was not going to end well, and the more he made it seem like an accident, the less chance his brother had of not being locked up in a psych ward. In his mind, he knew it wasn't an accident, but he also knew that Sam would never have done this if he weren't being controlled by that bitch. Sammy needed to be okay.

Jeff was about to say something to the distraught young man standing in front of him, when they saw the stretcher carrying Sam being brought out. Dean tried to ride in the back of the ambulance, but was held back by one of the paramedics. "Sorry son, you can't ride back here. Take your own car and meet us there."

Dean was incredulous, and he stumbled back. Aside from the time that Sam had spent in college, this was the most cut off he had ever been from his brother. The doors to the ambulance closed, and it sped away, sirens blaring in the night. Dean was alone.

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Hope you liked the chapter. Please feel free to leave whatever kind of review you would like: praise, constructive criticism, or question. I am entirely open to constructive criticism because it's a writer's best friend. It helps show us where we can improve.


	11. Emergency Room

I want to thank the people who have given reviews and who have read the story. Thanks for continued support: Jayme, Kaewi, and Celtic-Spaniard.

Onthnis- I'm glad that it kept you thinking. That's what I strive for.

Pizzapixie- The characters are off because they're both being controlled and played like puppets by the spirit. I promise that it'll get rectified.

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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Dean felt like his whole world was coming down around him. This was the furthest that he'd ever been from Sammy. Even when Sam was in college, he knew that he would be okay. Now, he didn't know. He should have known, should have seen what was coming, what was happening. He should have watched him closer, never let him be alone in that bathroom that long. Keeping as close behind the ambulance as possible, Dean got to the hospital just behind it, in time to watch them take his baby brother out on a stretcher. He looked so pale, so vulnerable, and Dean felt his heart break. This wasn't right. They had put an oxygen mask over his face, making him look sick again. Dean got close, put his hands on the side of Sammy's face for a minute, trying to regain his own breath. How could this thing have gone so wrong? He should have seen what was happening, listened to his gut reaction to get his brother the hell out of there before any of this happened. '_I promise to do better, Sammy. Just be all right._' He silently pleaded, guilt eating him alive. They continued to rush him into the emergency room.

"Twenty two year-old male overdose victim, possible suicide attempt. Resps at 68 percent, BP 72/38, non-responsive to outside stimulus, sluggish reflexes. He took Pottasium, Magnesium, Klonapin, and Cyclosporin. Victim's brother told us he's in remission for Leukemia." The medic relayed to the on-call doctor.

"Where's the brother now?" The doctor, whose name tag read Dr. Franklin, asked, his voice terse and frustrated. He looked like he didn't want to deal with a suicide. '_I don't want to deal with a suicide either, but here we are_.'

"I'm right here." Dean said, stepping forward, and as close to Sam as he could get. His voice was low, almost so low that he could not be heard.

"Is he allergic to any medications?" Dr. Franklin demanded of him.

Dean froze, shell-shocked by all that was going on around him. His brother wasn't breathing right on his own. His brother was dying. He looked so pale, so weak, laying there. He was going to lose him. After everything, they were going to lose him because he had been careless. He didn't register the doctor's question.

"Son, this is important. We need to do something now. Is your brother allergic to any medications?" He yelled once again at Dean, ignoring his mental state. He did not have time to deal with attention-seeking kids and their relatives. There were people who really needed his help, but he was stuck here cleaning up the mess for some kid that had done this to himself.

"No." Dean replied, keeping his voice as quiet as he could while still making sure that the man heard him the first time. If this man wasn't going to be hospitable to his brother, then he didn't need to worry about niceties with this man.

Dr. Franklin turned from him to the bed where Sam laid. He started barking out orders, but Dean had spaced out. Without truly knowing what was going on, he watched as a tube was forced down Sam's throat. His brother weakly fought it, trying to stop the invasion into his body. Then, his body convulsed and Sam was throwing up the contents of his stomach. There was a soft whining noise coming from him, and Dean almost broke down, right there in front of everyone. He was in pain and this asshole wasn't being gentle. Dean stood there for a moment, watching what was going on, punishing himself for what he had allowed to happen. The nurse noticed that he was standing there, and quietly ushered him out of the room.

"You can't be here, sir. We'll come and get you when there's any change." She said, gently before pulling the curtain between him and the room. He stumbled down the hallway to the waiting room, not sure what was going on, just that he had messed up and now Sammy was paying the price. He needed this to be all right.

He was torn between what he needed to take care of, what he needed to do to stop this thing, and being here, waiting in a nearly empty waiting room just to hear that his brother was going to be okay. On the one hand, the quicker he knew what he needed to do to stop this woman, the quicker he could kill her and be done with it. This was bad, though. Sammy had tried to kill himself, and it wasn't just with aspirin. He had taken prescription medications. So much could go wrong. So many complications could happen, and if he left... No, he needed to stay. Whatever had caused this could wait; he needed to be here when Sam woke up, to reassure him and make sure that he knew just how much he loved him.

For nearly an hour, Dean paced the waiting room, needing to hear that his brother would be okay, that he didn't fail him. He had gone up to the desk trying to find something out at least five times in that hour, but no one would tell him anything.

Sammy's doctor came into the hallway, and headed in Dean's direction, but Dean took off towards him. "How is my brother?" He asked the man.

"He's okay. He was brought here in time. We got most of the drugs he took out of his system, but he'll still be weak for a few days. I've had a psych consult called down for him. There's a mandatory evaluation, and he can be kept up to forty-eight hours. If you want, you can go sit with him. He is still unconscious, and will remain so for a while, but you are free to sit with him." His voice was clipped, and once again, Dean got the feeling that the man did not want to deal with Sam. "I have other patients to see. If you have any questions, call for a nurse."

Dean was left in the hallway, dumbfounded but relieved that his baby brother was going to be all right. He wandered back to where he had left Sam, stopping when he entered the room. His brother still looked so weak and vulnerable and he felt the guilt eating at him again. "Never again, Sammy. I promise that I will never let this happen again."

He sat down by the side of the bed, reaching out to lay a hand on Sam's hand, and settled in to wait. When he woke up, he could explain what had happened, what had driven him to do it, and most importantly, if he had felt like this always or if that woman had forced his movements. He needed answers.

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Hope you liked it. Please feel free to review in any way that you would like.

Remember, season finale on tonight. If you look over at www.supernatural.tv, there's a link for the details of the season 1 box set coming out in September. Go check it out, really good site. Happy hunting.


	12. Feeling Like Dying

This chapter explains why Sam has been acting OOC, and I promise that the couple of chapters will explain Dean.

Thanks to Celtic-Spaniard for giving me some much needed information.

Kaewi and PizzaPixie: Most of the time, this is how people who attempt suicide are treated in a hospital setting. It's horrible, but it happens all the time.

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Everything seemed fuzzy around the edges. Something was wrong. He remembered being in that hallway, something came over him and he felt pain, the car ride home and thoughts that he couldn't control, and then... Oh, god! Dean! He sat up, breath speeding up, reaching out for something solid. In an instant, there was a hand penetrating the thick fog around him. "Sammy. Come on; wake up."

He struggled to wake up, and finally opened his eyes, realizing that his brother held his hand. "Dean...what's going on?" His voice had a scratching sound to it, and his throat felt so dry, like someone was stabbing him. Dean handed him a cup of water that had been waiting on the table for him to wake up. They knew he would need the water, because of the tube that had been put down his throat.

"Well, you thought that it would make you super-healthy if you took all your pills at the same time. Guess that plan really fell through." Dean said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Sam knew better, though. It was a clever cover-up of his emotions.

"I'm sorry, Dean...I don't know what happened," Sam started, but was cut off by his brother.

"If you ever do anything like that again..." Dean shook his head and was quiet for a moment. This wasn't helping. The psyche consult people hadn't come down yet, and for all he knew, he was making things worse. Sammy could have meant to kill himself, used this situation for an easy excuse. "What were you thinking?" He demanded, needing to have answers, to have the only person still there in his life tell him that killing himself had never been his intention, his idea.

"I don't know. It was in my head, my thoughts, but they weren't my thoughts. It was me doing it, but I couldn't move my own body. I don't...Dean, I would never. I swear, I would never try to kill myself. Not after all you've done to keep me alive." His voice was trailing off, unsteady and unsure and he still felt cut-off from everything around him. He was shaky, and felt cold. Everything had almost ended for him, and Dean would have thought that he wanted to do this. He closed his eyes in grief for his own life, and felt a hand cup the side of his face.

"Look at me." The voice demanded. He opened his eyes and looked into his big brother's determined eyes. They were close, and Dean had a look on his face that he had rarely seen before. It was dangerous; it meant business. "I am going to find out what is going on, and I am going to kill it. It's going to be okay. This woman will not hurt you again as long as I'm around, got that?"

Sam still shook, cold and unsteady, breath unstable. He felt weak, and shivered a little. When he closed his eyes again, he felt the blanket being pulled up around him tighter. A hand grabbed his own hand and he heard a voice say "everything's going to be all right. I won't let anything hurt you." He felt a little bit warmer and decided to let his eyes rest, staying alert of all the things that were happening around him. They had no idea if that was the end of it, or if Rachel would try to attack him again once he let his guard down.

Grief settled over Dean as he sat with his baby brother. He looked so weak, so fragile, and every time he shivered or sighed heavily, Dean was reminded of his failure. He could have lost his brother so easily, and he would have had to live with the guilt of knowing that he wasn't there to stop it. This was not a suicide attempt; it was an attack. This was just like all the other people that had _died_. The only difference was that this woman had made this personal to them. She tried to take his **brother**. Trying to take his mind off of the anger these thoughts produced while he was still near his brother, he smiled and stifled a laugh at a very different thought. They would never be able to explain this to the doctors. When the psyche consult came, he would be taken upstairs and watched like a hawk. At least he would be able to make sure his brother was protected while figuring this thing out when Sammy was safely tucked away in the psych ward. He chuckled out loud, thinking about how Sam would work his way out of this one, first by trying to lie to the doctor and then dealing with the other crazy people upstairs.

"Why are you laughing?" Sam's weakened voice asked. Dean startled, thinking that he had gone back to sleep.

It only took him a moment to recover. "Just picturing you trying to explain this when the shrinks come and talk to you is all."

"Dean, they won't... you have to help me get out of here. They're gonna keep me. They'll never understand. We can't even tell them. They're gonna keep me." Sam pleaded, aghast. This only made Dean laugh harder, lightening the mood for him.

Sam tried to get up from the bed, tried to even lift himself up into a sitting position, but found it impossible. He laid back down and willed the dizziness to pass, all the while trying to keep his panic at bay. "Dean, I'm serious. You gotta help me get out of here, Dean. I can't be here."

Dean put his hands firmly on Sam's shoulders, keeping him in place. "Relax, Sammy. You need to calm down. The longest that they can keep you is two days. It's going to be okay."

"No, Dean. Please. I don't want to stay here. I can't be in the hospital again." Sam was frantic, desperate not to be here. There was terror, pure and complete that took over him. The last time he was in the hospital, he almost died. It was an irrational fear, but what fear ever really stemmed from something rational?

"It will just be for a little while, Sammy." Dean said, starting to sense just how upset Sam was.

"No, I already wasted enough time in the hospital. I don't want to be here again." Dean stopped for a moment, froze in his place. He understood. With all that Sam had gone through, he would never want to be in a hospital again. His hands were completely tied this time, though, and he didn't want to have to explain why he needed Sammy here. There was no way his brother could help him after what his body had been through, not to mention that the bitch may not be done. Sam also would never want Dean to go after her by himself. Too bad. This woman was going to burn in hell and he was not putting his brother in more danger in the process. He would not and could not bury his brother.

Dean started making soothing nonsense words in his throat for a few seconds, the better part of a minute, until he knew Sam was a little bit more calm. "Sam, look, I know that you don't want to stay here, but I promise that everything will work out. You'll just stay here for two days, forty-eight hours, and then I'll come and get you and we'll leave. I promise that you will not have to stay here any longer than that as long as you stay calm. Please, Sam, just calm down." He was so sick of the chick-flick moments, but this was a desperate situation.

Sam took a deep, calming breath, trying to reign in his emotions. He looked at his brother, and said "If that's what you think is best." His eyes looked up at Dean with total trust, and Dean felt something break. This was his fault. He should have been watching his brother better, making sure that he wasn't going under the woman's power. None of this should be happening.

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Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to leave any type of review that you would like, as always. I am working on another story that stopped being a one-shot, and there will be another chapter up of that soon, as well. Remember, May 18th we find out whether we get another season.

Happy hunting.


	13. Admitting Processes

So, you know you haven't updated in a while when you get an e-mail asking if you're going to continue the story. Valerie and Friendly, thanks for the kick-start. Sorry that it's been so long since an update.

Hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It's a littleless dramatic.

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Sam's stomach was tied in knots. He had never been forced to talk to a psychiatrist before, but he knew that under the current circumstances, it would be anything but good. His brother still stood next to the bed, keeping him company, but he knew it wouldn't last. There was no story that he could tell the doctor, that he would believe. '_Sorry, doc. See, I was being controlled by this girl who killed herself twenty-five years ago_.' For now, he would be forced to go along, to tell them that he was sorry and that he would never try it again. Yeah, that would work, almost as well as the truth would. Dean flashed him one of his hundred watt smiles, before leaving the room to go see where the doctor was. He could leave. Sam just knew that the second he set his foot outside of the room, alarms would go off and security guards would come running. Checking his watch for the fiftieth time, he noticed that it had only been about a half hour. Funny how things seem to drag on, to take so much more time than they actually did, when you were anxious. Moments later, Dean was back, his smile turning into a frown when he saw his brother.

"Relax, Sammy." He instructed, and it wasn't until that moment that Sam realized his breath was coming in jagged gasps. This was what hyperventilation felt like then, the lightheadedness that he was feeling now.

"Dean, I don't want to be here. You have to help me come up with something to tell them so that I can leave with you today." Sam begged, burying his fingers in his eyes. This waiting was killing him; if they already knew they were taking him upstairs, then why did it take so long for them to come and get him?

"It will only be for a couple of days, and then I'll come and get you. I promise. Just don't tell them you see dead people, Haley Joel." Dean said, his face lighting up with a signature smile.

"Screw you." Sam snarled, his voice lending a vivid picture to his brother of just how upset he was.

"It's gonna be okay. Sammy, man, you don't have to be worried here. I can honestly promise you that nothing bad is going to happen this time. You're better."

"It's not that. It's just...I don't wanna be trapped here, Dean." The words had barely left his mouth when a woman wearing a long white coat came through the door.

She smiled at Sam warmly, and he let out a huge breath. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had thought. "How are you feeling today, son?" Her voice was a heavy laden southern accent, and she was treating him like a child. There was no way he was getting out of this.

"A lot better. I don't know what I was thinking." Sam stumbled over his words for a few seconds, and finally left off with a little smile.

"Okay. And who's this guy?" She asked him, clearly trying to not hear his words for the time being.

"That's my brother, Dean. He watches over me." Sam said sadly, wishing and not for the first time this evening, that he had allowed him to do just that after they'd left the dorm building.

"Does he live with you?" She asked, taking down a few notes.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And where was he tonight?" Sam felt his stomach tighten at the unintentional accusation that was found in her words.

"I locked him out of the bathroom." It sounded stupid, even to him, and he was sure that she wasn't too thrilled with that. After all, hadn't all little boys learned how to open bathroom doors with a credit card? Dean just wanted to give him some space. They'd been...crowded, lately.

"Can you tell me what happened tonight?" Her voice was still calm and gentle, but it gave promise that it could change.

"I made a mistake. I was really upset, and I went and swallowed all my medicine. It was just really stupid of me," he tried to explain, to be humble and maybe she would see that he was sorry. If he would have looked up, he would have seen Dean grimace in response to his words before turning to face the other way. That was the worst thing that he could have said.

"Which is exactly why you're going to be spending a couple days with us. If you were that impulsive a couple hours ago, what's to say that something doesn't happen in the next couple of hours that causes you to try it again?" In the presence of his words, her voice had turned stern and commanding. He knew too late that what he had said was wrong. Sam's eyes shot directly to Dean, who was looking away, trying to avoid seeing the panic in his baby brother's eyes.

"I don't... I promise I won't try it again." Sam tried again, only to be stopped.

"Why should I believe the words of someone who tried to commit suicide this evening? You have no idea how many young people I see who come here who have tried to commit suicide. Yet they all have the same promises and they would all go try to do it again if I let them out the same night. Whatever drove you to do this is still there, nothing has been resolved and until it does, I don't feel right letting you out. So, here's what we're going to do: give us two days, talk to our people, attend a few groups, maybe try taking some anti-depressants if that's what the staff psychiatrist thinks is the best, and then you can go home. While you're with us, you can still call this guy, and he can still call you." She told him this, eyeing Dean. "I promise you that it will work itself out if you let it."

He nodded, knowing that there was no escaping this. Dean wouldn't even really face him right now, and Sam felt even worse as he considered what all of this must be doing to his brother. After everything that had gone on in previous months, and then this being their first hunt back from what amounted to hell...it had to be killing him just as badly. Just finding him in that bathroom had to have been horrible. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then nodded his head again.

Dean faced the wall, not wanting to see this, to feel the anxiety rolling off of Sam. This needed to happen so that he could get rid of this bitch before she had a chance to hurt his brother again. He needed to do this alone, make sure that his brother wasn't in any more danger. When he heard the doctor tell Sam that she was going to go start the intake papers, he let out a breath that he had been subconsciously holding. He knew that Sam had agreed. There would be no need for a fight.

"Dean?" The quiet voice of his brother broke through Dean's heavy thoughts. He turned and was at Sam's side in a second.

"What's going on?"

"You'll keep in contact, tell me what's going on?" Sam was taking this seriously now, and Dean had to stifle a laugh.

"You'll be here for two days, dude. You're making it sound like I'm just going to let them lock you away here for the rest of your life." There was a chuckle in his voice.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, and allowed himself to relax. "Ah, you're probably right. I just... and did you catch that woman's attitude?"

"Yeah, I thought I was going to have to go find some holy water and dad's journal. She went from 'how are you, son' to snapping like a turtle." Dean kept the banter up, knowing that it was keeping his brother calm. Five minutes later, a nurse came and helped Sammy into a wheelchair to go upstairs. When they had left, Dean went and got the number for his floor from the nurse's station. Determined that he was done slacking, Dean walked out the door with the will to go find and kill Rachel's spirit.

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'm going to try to put another chapter up for this story and for "Wrecked" by this time next week, maybe earlier. Please feel free to review anyway that you would like, whether it be praise, constuctive criticism, or a question. Thanks for reading this chapter. Happy hunting.


	14. Learning the Truth

Disclaimer: "Supernatural" does not belong to me. It belongs to a talanted man named Eric Kripke.

Yay! I've been trying to post this chapter for three days and it finally posted!

Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I was backlogged three months on reading other people's work, and wanted to do that first. There are some really good writers here, btw.

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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Dean knew that the time that he had to figure out what was going on was limited. If he didn't figure out how to stop this woman before his forty-eight hours were up, Sam would be put back in danger. Whatever Sammy had that he didn't was making him a target to her anger, to her vengeance. He needed to stop this before it happened again. Leaving his broken baby brother in that hospital, where he could not protect him, had been brutal. It would be even more brutal if he had to watch yet another suicide attempt, though. He knew that this needed to be finished, because he would much rather leave the case, allow the same thing to happen to more people, than watch anything else happen to his brother. The fear that he felt when he found his brother on that bathroom floor still made him have a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It needed to end, for his sake as much as for anyone else. 

Taking a fake ID out of his glove compartment, Dean walked into the police station. By now, it was near morning. It would still look odd for someone to be requesting records, but he had hit a dead end everywhere else he looked. He knew it was risky, but he needed the original files on each of the victims. He walked into the building, casually, trying not to be detected. He glanced at a board that listed the different areas of the building as he walked passed, checking quickly to see where the "Records" department was.

Walking up to the desk he needed, Dean flashed the middle-aged receptionist a million-watt smile and showed her his ID. In his best southern accent, he began speaking to the woman. "G'morning, ma'am. I'm Detective Paul Manning from the Georgia State Police. I'm looking for a copy of any information you have on these people."

He laid a list of all the victims along with Rachel and Dane on the counter in front of the woman. She looked at them for a moment, and then looked back at him. "Oh, these are all those young people that killed themselves over at the college. I'll go find the files for you, Detective."

He had worked to find the names in obits, looking for anything that would have made the pattern. There had to be some kind of pattern, something that linked them together, and after hours of looking, there still wasn't anything he had to go on. They all had different majors, different life goals; nothing was the same. His father or even Sam would have had more of an eye for the pattern, but now Sam was a part of the case and he was not ready to call his dad on this one. '_Hi dad, just wanted to let you know that I screwed everything up again, that Sammy tried to kill himself and I did nothing about it until it was too late. I know it's the first case back, but I wasn't watching him close enough. Can you come and bail us out?_' He shook his head, not even wanting to think about that as an option. They'd done harder things without help. Glancing down at his watch, he realized that he lost half an hour just dwelling on his guilt. Time was ticking away, and he became focused on the clock that had been set for him. Just as he was getting up to ask where the files were, the file clerk came around the many rows of filing cabinets, carrying several thick manilla folders. Her high heels clicked on the tile floor, and he was reminded of the mom on "That 70's Show" for some reason.

"Here you go, Detective. Sorry for the wait." She told him with a smile as she handed him the files. He glanced through the folders, and noted that she had made copies of all the files, neatly put together in a pile. He sighed as he tried not to think about how much work this was for such a short time. Forcing a small smile of gratitude, he thanked the woman.

"You're welcome. Hope you find what you're looking for." He gave her a nod as he left the cramped room, glad to be out of there.

Hours later, sitting in the same hotel room his brother had nearly died in, nervousness made Dean jumpy and unfocused. Every few minutes, he got up to stretch, to make more coffee. After hours of being awake and the stress of the previous evening, it was the only thing keeping him going. He had been looking through the files for nearly three hours and had yet to find anything that would help him. These people were all just average. Certain things started to look alike, but then one or two people wouldn't fit the pattern. What was worse was trying to fit them together with Rachel Connor and Dane Underwood.

Looking back at the folders again, Dean sat back on the bed and took a deep breath. Rachel had a domestic violence charge against Dane; Sam either hadn't noticed the date or hadn't thought it was important. Dane had been abusive to Rachel... the theory wouldn't work, not for Sammy. Sammy was never hurt when he was around. He would never let anyone hurt Sammy as long as he was around. It could be a pattern, though. Maybe they had just pissed her off by nosing around. He looked at the other records, scrutinizing each of them in this last ditch effort. Each of the women had recently been involved in domestic violence cases. He knew he was wrong, though, as he looked at the other men's folders. Sighing even before he opened it, he grabbed Joshua Manson's folder. Domestic violence? Joshua had been raised, for the most part, in foster care. There was a history of physical abuse from his father, and he had need to be removed from the house when he was eight years old. It counted. He set the folder down, reaching for the other two. One of the men had a similar past, but he reached for Benjamin's folder. He set his coffee down, looking at the folder with anticipation. He and his current wife had a beautiful marriage, but he had an old girlfriend arrested for domestic battery. Dean's eyes got big as he read on, noting that the woman had taken a steak knife to the man while he lay sleeping. He tried to stifle the laugh. "Buckets of crazy." He muttered, before moving on.

How did all of this fit in with Sammy, though? Why had Rachel hurt his baby brother if she was going after people who had a history of domestic violence? Both he and their father had gone out of their way to make sure that Sammy was protected, safe, at all times. Their father had even instructed Dean to look after Sammy when he went away and didn't bring them with. The only one who had ever abused Sam was Sam, with how hard he drove himself and the depth of that guilt complex. No one else had ever laid a hand on him, though.

He held out the files again, sprawled out in front of him, trying to figure out what the missing link was, where Sam fit into the equation. They all fit nicely into the puzzle now...except Sam. The more he looked at it, the more he understood. All of them, even Sam, were the submissive person in their relationships. Not just romantic relationships, but probably all of their relationships. The other person took over, was essentially the alpha male, just like Dane was. Just like Dean was. In all of their relationships, the partner became more aggressive, more angry, before the person killed themself. If Dean was honest with himself, he knew that he too had felt the anger, too. He had more of an edge to him, less tolerance and compassion towards his baby brother. His heart pounded harshly in his chest. He finally figured out the link, and he had done this to his brother. Quickly, and without thought, he pushed all the folders away from him and ran to the bathroom, heaving violently. How could he have missed this?

When he had calmed himself down, Dean came back into the room. He knew what needed to be done, more than the "why" this was happening, he needed to know "how" to stop this. Rachel was trying to reenact the situation that she had with Dane, so it should be as simple as finding, salting, and burning the bones. There was work to do.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to comment any way that you would like, whether it be constructive criticism, praise, or any questions.

Now that I'm done reading everything, there will probably an update every other day.

Happy hunting.


	15. Let Me Out

Sorry for how long it's been since I've updated. I've been really busy with other projects and with school, but I should have updates more frequently now. There are six more chapters left at this point, and it's my aim to get them done by the end of December. Once again, sorry for the delay.

Hope you enjoy the chapter.

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He needed to get out of here. He didn't belong here. A lot of the people here definitely belonged, like the lady who swore that she spoke to the Virgin Mary every day, but he knew that he didn't. He hadn't really wanted to kill himself, hadn't really attempted. Sure, technically, he did have the pills in his hand and deliberately swallowed, but did it really count when you were being influenced by a spirit?

Sam was crawling the walls. There were so many interesting people, and he had no desire to get to know any of them. It was all a joke. They had to go to group, and they wanted him to talk about his "issues." He hoped that Dean had some better way to get him out of here, because if they were depending on him opening up and talking about his "problem," they would be here for a long time. There was nothing that he could tell them that would be real enough and that wouldn't keep him in here longer.

He wondered what Dean was doing, all alone. '_Dean better not be going after this thing._' Even as the thought passed through his mind, he knew that his big brother was doing just that. He was probably at the dorm building or a cemetery right now. This was his fight now, and he knew that if they needed bait for anything, he would be the most likely candidate. This woman wanted him, had shown the interest already, and he knew that there was something that stood apart and made an easy target out of him. It seemed unfair that Dean should stand guard and come between him and danger again.

He had gone through a whole night, tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable on the cot he had laid on, bright lights out in the hallway distracting him from sleep every time he closed his eyes. The night nurse had come down the hall every ten minutes it seemed. He could not wait to get out of here.

Now, he sat in the rec room, watching some cartoon out of the corner of one eye and waiting for his doctor to show back up. She needed to listen to him, that he was no longer a threat to himself, that he would be fine to go home. Dean needed him, needed him to be there and to back him up. All that time they had been forced to take off was too much. They didn't need to have a botched up case first thing back. He was worried, because Dean should have at least called him. Visitors had come that day, so he knew that Dean could have come. They could have sat down and figured it out without Dean putting himself in the line of fire. He craned his head around, trying to see down the long hallway. If his doctor would hurry up and get there, he could get out quicker.

'_So, this is what jail feels like,_' he thought idly to himself. You're locked in, watched all the time, and unable to do anything you really want to do. It was actually quite fascinating, the things that his mind had conjured up to torture him with since he was brought up here last night. Everything from laying in a bed that was actually soft, riding in the Impala with Dean, to a chicken mcnugget meal at McDonald's and being allowed to have his light on whenever he needed it, made an appearance.

The harsh clacking of high heels could be heard all the way down the long hall, and Sam looked back, anxious to see his doctor. Sure enough, the woman was walking down the hall carrying a huge stack of files. She walked through the nurse's station, another place that he wasn't allowed to go, and laid the stacks of paper on the table. He watched her intently, waiting for her to come talk to him. She was talking and laughing, and he was getting really frustrated.

Finally, she walked over to him, carrying his file with her. "Would you like to come with me, Sam?"

He got up, quietly, nervously, and went to talk to her. They walked down the hallway to where there were offices, and she walked into one, sitting down behind the desk. "So, Sam, how was your night last night?" She asked in a condescending tone that he felt was better suited for a ten year-old than a grown man.

"It was fine." He grumbled, telling himself that he needed to cooperate for her to let him out. "I did a lot of thinking."

She leaned forward, like she was listening intently. "And?"

"I never should have done what I did. I just...there was so much pain, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I realized, after my brother found me and brought me here, that I can't leave him. He would be devastated." He spoke, hamming it up, because he knew he needed to get out of here.

"Go on," the doctor said, folding her hands in front of her.

"He hasn't been here to see me yet. I just wanted him to know that I'm sorry and that I learned my lesson. I know he's there for me, and I'll never do it again." Sam said, sincerely, in an effort to get her to believe him. She seemed to take a deep breath and think about what he said.

"I'll tell you what, Sam. I'm going to give you– I'm going to give your brother some anti-depressants for you. If you can promise to take them and keep the follow-up appointment with the psychiatrist, Dr. Marx, then I'll go sign the papers to release you. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said quickly, without thought.

She nodded, and collected his file. "I'm going to go get those papers. The phone's here," She plopped a big phone that looked like something right out of the '70's down in front of him, "Dial 9 to call out, and I'm going to go write up your papers."

He took a deep breath and held it, not quite ready to admit how easy that had been, and when she was gone, he called his brother's cell phone. When he got the voicemail right away, he left a message. "Hey, Dean. They're letting me out of here. Can you come pick me up so that I don't have to stay here anymore...please?"

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to comment any way that you would like, whether it be constructive criticism, praise, or a question.

Happy hunting.


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